


Dependence

by Everlind



Series: Ever After verse [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Atobe's conniving, LOTS of tennis (possibly of the inaccurately written kind), M/M, Ohtori over-thinking, Oshitari being… you know, Shishido being thick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kantou Tournament is near. How do you learn to play doubles with someone in four days?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Monday mornings are always the worst.

After all it is the first day of the week. Of a whole week of school and classes and tests.

Ohtori, for all his dedication to his education, doesn't like Mondays any better than the rest of his peers. This one is particularly bad, though. Heavier and more stifled than all others to have gone by this year. Sunday, yesterday, has left him feeling like a washcloth that's been wrung out too tightly. Too much emotion and stress, followed by yet another night of harsh, tearing pangs stabbing into his body.

Absentmindedly he reaches down and rubs his shins through his track-pants. Please,  _please_  let it just be pains from all the extra exercise past two weeks have been filled with. Anything. But not growing pains. Not that. He's  _one hundred eighty-five_  centimeters tall. He's thirteen.

Really now.

Anything but growing pains.

The bus jostles through the streets. They're deserted.

Quarter to seven. There will be morning practice for the rest of the week. After all, the Kantou Tournament is this Friday. Less than five days left. They have to win. Have to. Or it ends there and then.

Ohtori knows he should start feeling nervous, but he's tired and preoccupied and only slightly worried about his lack of a doubles partner. He wonders what Atobe will do with him now.

The loss of Taki-san is a doubled edged presence taking up residence in his chest. Yes, he does feel awful. Taki was a good senpai, a good doubles partner and a good person. And, indirectly, Ohtori stabbed him in the back.

But how can he truly feel guilty when Shishido-san is back on the team?

He did the impossible.

Thinking about that victory, though technically not his own, makes him feel quite the opposite of awful.

The bus shudders to a stop and Ohtori struggles with arranging two bags and a violin case in the narrow space. Where his tennis bag rests, his skin grows damp instantly.

It's so hot. Even this early.

On the courts there's the sound of tennis balls being passed back and forth already. He hears a haughty rap of a command and voices chiming a loud 'haaaaaai'. Even Atobe-san has come early. He wants to win more badly than all of them combined. Ohtori resolves to give it his everything this Friday. If he is allowed to play. After all, what is a doubles player without a partner?

There's a slight flutter in his chest, but not much more. The true panic will probably settle in a day before the Tournament.

He walks into the clubhouse right as Shishido-san walks out.

They both freeze.

Ohtori doesn't know what to say.

Sunday, though only yesterday, is an entirely different era. The bond he formed with Shishido-san over the past two weeks was severed precisely and finally so yesterday. Shishido did what he set out to do, the thing he asked Ohtori to help him with. There is no need for him anymore. That aside, Shishido-san is his senpai and they have never really taken much notice of each other before. Alright, he does admit to having been in quite some awe of Shishido (and, ah, okay, his hair) when he first joined. Maybe even admired him; his thoughtless bravery (saving babies like he did it every day) and rough-edged manner of being. But that quickly changed when Shishido turned out to be just another person on the team with a serious attitude problem.

But.

After what happened… he kind of wants to be friends with him.

His mouth opens but there's no words. What does he say?

He's never been a social butterfly, someone who easily makes friends, like Mukahi-san. He doesn't brim with witty commentary as Oshitari-senpai does. His best friend is, and has been for years, Hiyoshi. He knows a lot of people and gets along with them just fine. If Hiyoshi is doing work for the school newspaper, he doesn't lack any company to sit with during lunch. But there it ends.

Shishido-san is so vastly different and so interesting that Ohtori has a hard time letting go now he's seen a little glimpse of that other, kinder, side.

Yesterday they did go out after practice together to get Shishido-san a cap. It had been sort of awkward, but not bad, and Ohtori had tried to work up the courage to ask his senpai whether he wanted to go for ramen with him. His treat. To celebrate. But it sounded all so wrong and childish and desperate in his head that he chewed much too long on the words. Shishido left sooner than Ohtori had wanted him to, but his senpai had been so tired and had still seemed dazed with the knowledge that he was back on the team.

So he stands there, a stutter caught in his throat, with all those thoughts rattling through his skull, when Shishido-san tilts his head and quirks a little grin at him.

"You look like you just crawled out from under a rock," he says.

Ohtori breathes. Blinks. Looks at his senpai. He looks just as bruised and battered as he did yesterday. Not as bad as when they first started out, but beaten up all the same. At least there's a clean bandage on his eyebrow. He looks like a whole different person, back in his regular's shirt, hair shorn. And yet still him. Ohtori doesn't think there is anything out there that can make Shishido-san be any less… well, Shishido-san. He's bit like a force of nature, in that regard.

"Your hair-" Ohtori manages uselessly, after groping vainly for something more intelligent to say."It's more even."

Shishido's eyes veer up as he runs his fingers through it. "Yeah," he snorts. "My mother freaked out. She was at it all evening to try and fix it. Didn't really work though." He turns his head showing a big chunk of hair that Shishido's scissors sheared off with barely a finger's length spared.

He grins and starts towards the courts, but pauses to elbow Ohtori lightly. "But I got this now, don't I?" he says and puts on the blue cap they got yesterday. "Still not used to the bill though. Can't see anything coming from high up."

"Wait-" Ohtori reaches for the bill and tugs it around, backwards.

"Hah!" Shishido chuckles ruefully. "That I didn't think of that earlier. Thanks-  _ah_ , go get ready, Atobe is giving us the evil eye."

And indeed he is. Ohtori is surprised neither of them turn to stone. With that, both of them go their separate ways.

Ohtori tries his best to find his old rhythm, but the whole regular's team is still recovering from the sudden over-haul. There's Hiyoshi in his bright new regular's shirt and Shishido back in his old one. And, amazingly, there's Taki.

"Taki-san!" he exclaims, confused.

Taki smiles. "I know, right?" he tugs at the hem of a blue sleeve. "Won't be included in the Tournament line-up, though, Atobe said. Looks like you're on your own, Choutarou-kun."

Ohtori feels his own smile falter. "Oh."

"Don't worry," Taki hastens to assure him. "You're too valuable to be used as a reserve. They're just trying to give you a new place. Probably in doubles two."

He nods, cracks a tense smile and starts on his laps. He should be grateful. He should be. But he's a defect unit now. He's no good as a singles player. At least not with so many other,  _better_ , choices for singles.

Practice ends with everybody tugging at their shirt collars and groaning as they pile into the showers. Ohtori has a glimpse of Shishido-san whipping off his shirt and revealing his torso covered in fist-sized, yellow-brownish bruises. He winces and looks away to pick out a stall. As the showers shut off one by one, leaving everything steamy and smelling of wet boy, the clubhouse tickles empty in no time. Everybody hurries off towards their first class.

Hiyoshi accompanies him towards the building. "You look troubled," he says.

Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, Ohtori realizes that the panic  _is_  starting to settle in now. Likely because he's more awake to realize the profound change that has just wracked the regular's team, with emphasis on his own position in it. "It is nothing, Hiyoshi-kun. I hope we will win this Friday," is what he tells his friend. No use in whining about it.

"We will," Hiyoshi says. "See you at lunch?"

"Ah, no," Ohtori smiles apologetically. "Music practice during lunch."

"Right then," Hiyoshi nods. "See you in the  _regular's_  clubhouse then." The way 'regular's' rolls of his tongue is as though he's savoring the word, tasting the sensation of the significance it carries.

Ohtori smothers a little grin. Hiyoshi is much more elated at being a regular than he initially showed. Now that it isn't truly on the back of Shishido's hard work anymore, Ohtori is happy for him.

He deserves to be there.

Ohtori himself though... as one part of a pair without another half.

He sighs again and heads towards his first class.

***

It feels good to pour some of the frustration into the piano. His violin lies on a desk behind him, but right now he just needs to bite his way through a particularly difficult symphony, leaning on the keys with more force than necessary.

Vaguely he hears the rest of the orchestra try and keep up with him, but the aggressive torrent of his music sweeps over the feebler strains. Ohtori is always as unapologetically good as he can be at music. The rest should be able to keep up, they are on the orchestra for a reason, but today his passion leaves them cowed and timid.

Sakaki says as much to them as they pack up with barely enough time to stomp down their lunches. "This was a weak performance. You play with all your heart, or not at all."

Murmurs of agreement and apology. Some of the members give Ohtori  _looks_ , resentful ones.

"Ohtori-kun," Sakaki continues. "Less dominant. Let the others breathe."

Ohtori deflates some. "Aa. Sorry, sensei." He reaches for his violin.

"Ohtori-kun."

He stops breathing. "Yes, sensei?" he asks softly.

"Stay," Sakaki tells him.

Ohtori curses inwardly, closes his eyes for a moment. He knew this was coming. There was no way that he would have gotten away with helping Shishido-san the way he did with no repercussions. So he stays, having to watch all the others flee, bentos already tucked under their arms. His stomach growls.

"Ohtori-kun."

"Yes?"

"I have decided not to drop Taki off the regulars," Sakaki says.

Ohtori doesn't say anything, just feels something inside of him knot itself into a cold lump. Behind him is the piano. He brushes his palm over its glowing surface and breathes.

"He won't be your doubles partner again. Ever," Sakaki continues.

In the significant pause, Ohtori looks back steadily and wishes Sakaki wouldn't play with him like a cat teases a mouse. Nevertheless, he refuses to break his facade. Polite smile, attentive look.

Sakaki's eyes narrow. "Shishido will be your new doubles partner now."

Ohtori's expression doesn't falter, but he leans bodily back against the piano, thrown off balance so badly he sways from it physically.

"You have the privilege to inform him of this," Sakaki adds. The corner of his mouth tugs up the slightest fraction.

Ohtori smiles, nods. "Yes, coach," he says and turns to leave.

As he walks out of the music room he thinks:  _Oh god, no._

Sakaki did have the last word after all.

The bell rings.

Ohtori goes to class, bento untouched.

He's not hungry anyway.

***

_You have the privilege to inform him of this._

Ohtori abandons all hope and angsts.

Just when he thought of trying to reach out to Shishido-san and try to be friends, maybe, he has to go and tell him that sorry, Shishido-senpai, but your singles 3 spot? The one you fought so hard to regain? The one because of which you're covered in bruises and probably permanently scarred in your face? That one? Yeah, you can kiss it goodbye. Because you're stuck with me.

In doubles.

He hears not a word the teachers say to him in class. More than once he's asked whether he's feeling alright, he looks rather pale, maybe he should visit the sick-bay.

Ohtori waves it off with more smiles and profusely apologizes.

Then he spends the rest of his classes staring at the board without truly seeing anything. He's always respected Sakaki. Always, before, Ohtori was able to glean a shimmer of the actual reason behind his actions. There is a logic, a method, to his seemingly cold tactics and decisions.

Now that he's been drawn into one such a tactic himself, Ohtori can't see a valid, reassuring base to back-up this new decision. Not to mention there's more than a little indignation on Shishido's behalf, too.

He doesn't care that Atobe probably has had a hand in Taki's continued membership on the regular's team.

What he cares about is that Shishido-san got kicked off, was left to fight until bruised and scarred, all but humiliated, rejected and then finally re-accepted with what was cool disinterest.

Alright. Yes, it's true. Shishido's attitude problem? Fixed.

It should have ended there. Instead, he gets knocked down a notch on top of it. Dumped in doubles. With him, no less.

Clever way to tie up loose ends, though.

And why keep Taki and not use him?

Shishido is a singles player. Has been in that slot for a better part of his first, his whole second and the beginning of his third year. What he has seen from Shishido's abilities in doubles recently is meagre. Casual face-offs, with some random partner. Never serious.

He can't even remember whether Shishido is bad at it, or just adept.

He's never  _had_  to care.

Ohtori's pencil makes furious doodles in the margins of his book, randomness, dark, jagged lines. In less than five days they have to make a solid combination.

With Shishido's track record they. can't. loose.

And Ohtori doesn't want to lose. At all. He wouldn't have made it to the regulars if he didn't care about winning so much. Would Sakaki kick them both off, if they did?

Ohtori doesn't know.

Worse? These are all the worries clamoring for attention, but loudest of all is the roar of: what do I tell Shishido-san?

***

Ohtori doesn't tell him when he sees him in the clubhouse.

He doesn't tell him, or call out to him, as they run laps.

He doesn't offer to help him with his stretches and whisper it to him furiously under his breath.

And most of all he doesn't suggest they team up for a game of doubles, even though Atobe has randomly decided that today they'll practice formations.

And no, Atobe-san can glare and twitch his eyebrow as much as he wants at Ohtori, but he's not telling Shishido anything now.

Makes only sense that Atobe has had a hand in this, actually.

 _Do you want him to hate me?_  Ohtori wants to yell as he furiously slams balls into his opponents' court. His partner, a pre-regular, runs around flapping his arms like a goose, being completely useless. Not that he needs his help, anyway.

When he can, he observes Shishido playing with Oshitari, but the latter is making more a game out of teasing Shishido, than of the tennis itself. Eventually Shishido snatches a ball out of mid-air and hurls it at Oshitari (instead of their opponents), hitting him on the back of his head and the both of them get disqualified.

Ohtori rubs his temples.

Atobe is doing much the same. "Alright, dismissed," he calls out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

With relieved groans, everybody rushes off towards the showers, wanting to claim the best stalls, steal each other's driest and less smelliest towels.

"We lost," Oshitari points out, his smile entirely in discord with the statement. He trails after Shishido, rubbing at the back of his head.

"It's your fault," Shishido hisses back over his shoulder. "Should've left me alone."

"But I missed you while you were gone," Oshitari says.

Shishido kicks him and the two of them end up in a tussle of elbowing and light shoving. Mostly they succeed in blocking the door for the rest of regulars.

"Idiots, the whole lot of them," Hiyoshi speaks up, popping up next to him out of nowhere. He shakes his head after them and then looks up at Ohtori. "What's the  _matter_  with you? You're as white as chalk."

Ohtori shakes his head. "Later," he says.

Hiyoshi arches a brow.

"It's a little complicated," Ohtori elaborates reluctantly. "Tell you about it when it's resolved."

"Fair enough," Hiyoshi agrees. "As long as you aren't in some sort of trouble."

The smile that tugs at his lips is wry and empty at best. "Not yet."

***

The shower doesn't help to ease the nerves. He takes it ice-cold to clear his head, but just ends up shivering and more wound up. Almost he stalls too long, some part of him hoping that Shishido will have left already by the time he emerges.

Instead Shishido is still there wrapped up some sort of enthusiastic conversation with Mukahi that seems to involve a lot of arm-waving.

Ohtori even has time to dry himself properly, dress, take time with his buttons, laces and tie and generally fidget and try to avoid the inevitable. Eventually the whole clubhouse is deserted but for him, Shishido-san, Mukahi and Atobe, who does his eyebrow-twitch at him again while he talks on one of his phones with someone.

Ohtori takes a deep breath, clenches his hands into fists and then consciously relaxes them. He walks up to Shishido.

He's still not completely dressed, barefoot and shirtless and of course that means that Ohtori gets a nice, good close-up from all the bruises, scrapes and scabs that make a macabre patch-work quilt out of Shishido's otherwise smooth skin. Somehow his eyes are drawn to the nape of his neck, an area significantly paler than the rest of him, as it was previously protected from the sun by the tassel of his ponytail. As he sidles closer from behind, Shishido makes a sort of exploding noise, arms outlining what could be the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. Ohtori has to smile, even though he is reminded how different they are from one another.

Mukahi is nodding thoughtfully as though he's pondering one of life's deepest mysteries, and then he catches sight of Ohtori looming awkwardly behind Shishido.

"Ohtori-kun," he says, blinking.

Shishido turns and looks at him, too.

The bandage is gone from his eyebrow, washed away by the spray of the shower, probably. The wound is horrid: a gaping split, scabbing at the edges and blue spreading outwards from it into Shishido's short hair.

Ohtori swallows. "Shishido-san," he mumbles. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"

Shishido looks surprised, but the corner of his mouth hitches up a little. "Sure, I'll just get dressed."

Avoiding Mukahi's frankly curious looks and Atobe's smug eyebrow tilt, Ohtori shuffles his feet and waits for Shishido to finish. Shishido's shirt is only half-buttoned and sticks to his damp skin as they walk together out of the clubhouse. Almost unconsciously they orbit towards the sakura tree behind the clubhouse, where they had another serious conversation not so long ago.

At last Shishido steps up in front of him, blocking his path. "Okay, what's up? Who  _died_?"

"What?"

"Just," Shishido makes vague motions at his face. "Everything. Is something wrong?"

Ohtori sucks in a shuddering breath. "Well. I. This afternoon. I-"

"Yeees?" Shishido prompts, eyeing him with curiosity.

"Sakaki-san. He wanted to talk to me- We. He said. I-"

Ohtori staggers back a few steps as Shishido all but lunges forwards, hands clamping over his shoulders. He staggers even more when he gets the full-frontal treatment of Shishido's burning, dark gaze. "Fuck.  _No_. No!" he growls, hands painfully tight on Ohtori's body. "That asshole."

Ohtori reels. Did Sakaki already tell him? Did Atobe? Is Shishido psychic?

"I'm so sorry," he goes on, confusing Ohtori. "I thought it was safe. That it was okay. I'll- I'll go talk to him. Tell him to take me instead."

"What?" Ohtori asks, completely befuddled.

"What what?" Shishido counters, genuinely furious. "He can't kick you off the team! I knew he was up to something; it was too easy. But not like this. I'll make him see that it's better for me to go-"

Ohtori interrupts, "Shishido-san."

"-damned stuck-up arsehole, probably has the handle of a racket up his- er. Yes. Sorry. Yes?"

"I'm not off the regulars," Ohtori tells him, touched at Shishido's vehement reaction, though slightly outraged at his foul-worded litany.

"Oh." Shishido-san lets him go rather sheepishly, rocks back on his heels.

"And neither are you," Ohtori follows up, before he gets blasted with another outburst.

"Oh," Shishido goes again and grimaces. "So we are here because…?"

"Sakaki-san. He said we, that Taki and I-" Ohtori trails off, bites his lips. Why is this so hard to say? He can't do this.

"Choutarou."

Ohtori's attentions snaps towards his senpai like an elastic band being released.  _Choutarou_.

"Just tell me," Shishido goes on reassuringly. Then he smirks. "I don't bite. Often."

That does draw a little chuckle out of Ohtori and suddenly he's able to say it as it is. "Sakaki wants us to play doubles together." He swallows. "I'm so sorry, senpai."

There's no crushing disappointment on Shishido's face the way he expected there to be, nor a vicious curl of his lip. Instead he's perfectly still for a moment, a rare occasion indeed, absorbing the information. Even though he is rolling the information over in his head like a mouthful of something foreign, his gaze turned inwards, Ohtori has time to re-affirm to himself that yes, the look in Shishido-san's eyes is always like this.

It was probably the most prominent thing that set him on edge around Shishido, before. That look. No matter what, when or why. No matter the topic of the conversation, the circumstances, Shishido has this way of looking as though he's constantly challenging you. Ohtori hadn't liked that  _at all_ , before. When Shishido has looked at him, he'd felt put on the spot, deemed feeble, and then felt as though Shishido demanded why Ohtori wasn't doing the full hundred percent plus then some.

It is a look that, before, had seemed to say:  _is that it? The best you can do?_

After Shishido's own considerable humiliating defeat, it had made Ohtori feel defensive and prickled.

Now he knows that Shishido just always has that look. Intense, almost hungry, and bordering on shamelessly invasive. Aggressive.

And now he's also able to read better all the emotions that seep through that initial impression. Such as now.

Shishido has already accepted the idea. And he confirms this by saying, "Guess that makes sense."

Despite being relieved of walking out of this encounter with his nose still attached, Ohtori feels all the other worries wash it away. "Shishido-san," he says, and his voice cracks a little in his desperation. "We've only got four evenings."

Shishido's mouth forms a strange shape and his eyes dart up to meet his.

And that's a look he's become intimately familiar with, too. Determination. Ohtori almost groans in dismay. And he definitely knows what's coming now.

"Then we had better start practicing, don't you think?" he says.

This time the look in his eyes is most certainly a challenge.

Ohtori knows they've been handed Mission Impossible in the most base form of the meaning. But when Shishido-san looks at him like that? For some reason it makes Ohtori respond with, "Today."

"Today," Shishido confirms and holds out his fist, knuckles forward.

For a moment he blinks at the gesture, the hand extended towards him like a fist-punch paused in mid-motion. Then he gets it. He's never done stuff like this with Taki-san, either, but Ohtori thinks he could get used to this newness.

He fist-bumps Shishido back.

***

"Okay," Shishido-san is saying. "We'll meet up after dinner. Here's my cell number, y'know, in case…" he trails off.

Ohtori flushes guiltily at the memory of leaving Shishido hanging before, on a most crucial moment. The paper he receives is obviously been torn out of a school-issued textbook, the numbers are scrawled in hasty pencil. Just like that, he's got his senpai's cellphone number. He folds it carefully, slips it into his pocket.

"Where should we meet?" Ohtori asks.

"Erm," Shishido goes, eyes darting back and forth restlessly.

"Right here, naturally," a cultured voice speaks up.

Shishido jumps about a mile, knocking Ohtori sideways per accident. "Atobe!"

"Atobe-san," Ohtori echoes and wonders how much he's heard from their conversation.

"I'm quite certain you have a key to the courts, have you not, Shishido?" Atobe says as he walks up to them, mouth curled into a secret smile.

Shishido goes red. Ohtori notices that when he blushes, it's a smudge over his nose and cheekbones, his ears and a gradient flush over his neck and collarbone, too. Now that he thinks about it, how  _did_  Shishido get a key to the courts when he was dropped off the regulars? Nobody has one, but Atobe. Use of the spare key has to be granted by explicit, written permission. Ohtori is  _quite_  certain that Shishido did not come by the key by asking Atobe nicely for it.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Shishido growls low, but he's an awful liar. The blush if even more pronounced and his frown quite epic.

 _Shishido-san_ , Ohtori groans inwardly and closes his eyes.

Atobe looks as though he's enjoying himself. His eyes shine with amusement. "Oh, come on now, Shishido," he says, chuckling throatily, "you did not honestly believe that Ore-sama would do something as absentminded as leaving the spare key  _unattended in the middle of my desk_ , do you now?"

Shishido makes an incoherent noise of anger.

"Let me spell it out for you," Atobe continues, but rather seriously this time. "I knew what you would do. From the moment I dropped you off the team. So I _let_  you find the key. I  _let_  you bully Ohtori into helping you. I  _let_  Ohtori help you. I  _let_  you defeat Taki. I  _let_  you run after Sakaki. I  _let_  Ohtori follow you. And here you are. Both of you."

Of all things, it is obvious Shishido did not expect this. It's also clear that he cannot understand  _why_  Atobe did what he did.

Ohtori, in some secluded corner at the back of his mind, but most prominently in his heart, starts to understand.

"And now I have made it so that the both of you will see it out to the end. Together." Atobe finishes, his smooth voice almost as softly tuned as the orange wash of the early evening settling in. "And Shishido? Don't screw up," he adds. With that he turns smartly on his heel, strides off.

The two of them stand there, flabbergasted.

Shishido looks as though he's been whacked over the head by a sledgehammer, the way he stands there gaping in the general direction Atobe stalked off in.

"Together," Ohtori echoes. Then something dawns on him. "You  _stole_  the key, senpai?"

Shishido starts. "Uhm," he goes and runs a hand through his hair. "Well, not really. Atobe wanted me to find it, didn't he?"

"Shishido-san…"

"Well, he did!" Shishido says defensively. Suddenly his jaw drops in the light of sudden realization. "Atobe let me cut my damn hair off! That fucker! I'll get him back!"

That's it. That does it.

Ohtori starts to laugh.

Shishido stares at him for a few heartbeats, watching him get tears in his eyes and gasp for breath as he laughs it off, and then he starts laughing too.

***

It hardly surprises Ohtori to find his senpai already warming up when he returns to the courts. The back of Shishido's shirt is already soaked. Setting down his bag, he joins him. He's a little late because his parents weren't exactly happy with his going out again, even hinting he was little young to have 'special lady friend'.

Muscles flex against his palms as he helps Shishido with his stretches. If only they knew.

They never took Ohtori's tennis very seriously. And they certainly do not appreciate how much time he is prepared to invest in the sport. Certainly they would not approve that he even let his grades slip for a moment because he was investing so much time into  _someone else's_ tennis. But it seems that Shishido's tennis will also be  _his_  now.

"Alright," Shishido says, rolling his shoulders. "Doubles."

Ohtori looks at his senpai and hopes he's not expecting Ohtori to offer great insights on how to proceed. Taki was always the one who controlled their combination, who guided him, the gamemaker. He's used to taking clues from him.

"I say we play each other first," Shishido continues, carefully looking him up and down.

"Each other?" Ohtori repeats.

"Yeah, well," Shishido flaps his racket vaguely at the other side of the court. "I've seen you play, of course. And we've done a few matches over the years. Not to mention last week I did nothing  _but_  watch you play and… and serve. But I didn't really think of you other than an opponent. I'd like to play you and think of how we'd best…" he trails off.

"Find a combo that brings out our strengths?" Ohtori offers tentatively. It's what he feels most doubles pairs do.

A small smile runs around the edges of Shishido's lips. He makes a sort of shrug with a shoulder that means neither yes or no. "… play in perfect balance." he murmurs instead.

Ohtori blinks.

"You're right. To a certain extend," Shishido goes on. "It'd be stupid not to use your serve as trump card, nor your height. And it's a good thing we don't have to squabble for territory. So that's good."

"Don't forget your speed," Ohtori points out, feeling his cheeks redden under the matter-of-fact praise he's receiving.

Another little lop-sided twist of the lips. "Hn," he goes and then moves on, a very new and modest something. "Thing is, it's not just doing the things we're good at and doing them on the same court without getting in each other's way. It's not singles."

"I… suppose," Ohtori concedes. He never expected Shishido, who's happily wallowed in his singles 3 spot for quite some time, to display a subtler grasp of the doubles play than himself.

He remembers a few doubles games of his, of course. Like the very first time he saw Shishido play tennis, it was with Mukahi-senpai against Atobe. But that wasn't so much doubles as what Shishido just described: two players doing what they do best on the same court. But… he remembers that Atobe often made Shishido play with promising pre-regulars in doubles games, because he's good at being… being a gamemaker.

 _Huh_. Ohtori thinks as he realizes that this is true. The more he thinks about Shishido in doubles, the more he remembers him being… a sort of positive guiding force.

It's odd to conclude this in retrospect.

It's just that… Well. He looked up to Shishido for a while, before he joined and for a while longer after he did, true. He was brave and gallant and just… so cool. But then he became down-right arrogant and what used to be a flippant and tough remark seemed to him to become rather condescending at times. And so boastful of his own competence (and unlike Atobe, not likely to be able to back it up all the time). Not to mention his way of looking, always,  _always_ as though he thought you came up short to his grand expectations.

He knows better now, of course.

During that period he never quite understood why all the all the other younger members liked him so. Especially after he, himself, had felt thwarted that Shishido wasn't brave and off-handedly kind and and… everything he'd imagined him to be.

Turns out that the person Ohtori looked up to never quite left. Perhaps he knew this, on some level, when he said yes when all this began. He most certainly did this Sunday, when he offered to give up his regular's spot for Shishido-san. He looks up to Shishido more than he ever did when he was in grade school. But the person who stands before him today is more worth it than ever.

Shishido is right when he refers to 'balance', but Ohtori knows in his bones that between them it'll be about trust.

He decides to start right away.


	2. Part 2

Shishido-san isn't wrong about playing one another first.

But he feels rather weird staring at and being stared at in return when they play. A lot of his serves go into the net. Ohtori can see his senpai carefully note every single wild serve, dark eyes intense. Yet he doesn't say a word about it, which unnerves Ohtori more. Even Taki-senpai often got worked up over how much he netted his serves.

Ohtori is confident in his serve, despite this. Just like he's profoundly grateful for his height when he's got a racket in his hand and the hostile lines of the court marking his territory. He wouldn't be hyotei, not to mention a second year regular, if he didn't love to win and win  _hard_. It thrills him to see his opponents shrink back after his first serve. There's nothing awkward about him when he keeps pushing even after cornering them. There's nothing sweet about him the moment their eyes reflect the knowledge that there's  _nothing_  they can do. He gets all the high shots and most of the wide ones, too, being tall means that he covers a wide area simply by being himself. His body is straggling behind with filling itself out as he keeps shooting up, but Ohtori has started to realize that besides speed in his serve, he's capable of hitting heavy and hard.

It's just difficult to keep up with himself. Some of his technique suffers because he fed it all towards making his serve what it is.

But.

When he sees Shishido-san play, he think he's got the solution.

No.

Not a solution.

An answer.

Shishido is fast. But the edge his reaction time and speed have are  _new_. But it's the rest of his tennis kept him in the regulars for three years, too. Until Tachibana. Who is a captain.

Granted, his style has altered to adjust itself to the new skills, but the overall effect is that he plays freer and smoother… though not smooth  _enough_ , it seems, seeing as he does a skid that leaves a red weal on his leg. But he takes the game.

"Let's take a time-out?" he asks as they move to switch courts.

An eyebrow arches. "Tired already?"

Ohtori doesn't say no, he isn't. He doesn't say, I need to make sure you put something on that injury, either. Shishido-san is a bit weird about that. If he can get him to sit down first, he can just tackle him with disinfectant before he can think about protesting.

While his senpai twists the cap off a bottle of water, Ohtori digs for the cotton swabs and the antiseptic.

"It's just a scratch," Shishido says when he sees Ohtori coming. He looks mostly annoyed, but Ohtori is pretty sure he can detect a trace of amusement in his voice, too.

"Won't take long," he mutters and starts to mop at the film of blood where some of the skin is abraded.

Shishido sits and shakes his head a little. "I don't know why you bother," he tells him. "It's not like I won't take a shower when I get home or anything."

"You always need to clean it, senpai," Ohtori counters. "No need to risk an infection."

There's a hum above him. "Yes, mom."

Feeling the blood rise full force to his face, Ohtori's hands drop. He didn't mean to be overbearing. He just doesn't want Shishido-san to be in any unnecessary pain.

There's a chuckle. Shishido-san chuckles from his chest, deep and gravelly. "Choutarou," he says. "I'm just teasing."

The blood doesn't seem to be in any hurry to leave his face, though. So he quickly puts on some salve to keep dust from getting at the wound and sits back.

"Don't forget to drink," Shishido points out after they sit in silence for another minute.

Ohtori nearly mutters something about 'who's being mothering now' but he doesn't  _quite_  dare. Instead he manages a sheepish smile: "Aa, I know. But I forgot to pack any. I was kinda in a hurry."

Shishido gives him a terrifically unimpressed look. "Right. You pack clean cotton swabs, disinfectant and salve, but no water?"

His cheeks seem to burn like miniature suns. It sounds as weird as his senpai puts it and he doesn't know what to respond to make it less so.

"Here," Shishido says and nearly upends his bottle of mineral water down Ohtori's t-shirt as he shoves it at him.

He fumbles before managing to grab it. Blinks at it.

Shishido stands. Scabby knees are level with his eyes before they walk off. "I wiped the top," he adds over his shoulder.

His senpai doesn't see that he'd already taken a big gulp -he's  _parched_ \- before he finished telling him that.

***

Tuesday finds Ohtori and Hiyoshi walking towards the cafeteria together.

Ohtori's stomach whines and growls. Ashamed, he pressed his hands against it and wills it into silence. His mother prepares lovely bentos packed full of things he likes, but he thinks he might just get something extra from the shop to go with it today.

Students mill the hallways. They call out to friends. There's a laugh ahead of them, rough and warm. Ohtori lifts his head automatically.

Shishido-san is standing with a group of friends near an open window. They are probably his classmates. Jiroh-senpai is out cold and hanging off Shishido's side. The talk between them is animated and Shishido is explaining something that is received with little grins and some eye-rolling.

Mid-narrative Shishido's eyes flick away from his audience towards  _him_. His hands pause and his grin widens. "Hey, Choutarou," he says, giving a nod. The whole group (including Jiroh-senpai cracking open an eye) turns to look at him.

Ohtori doesn't know whether to be pleased or embarrassed. Possibly a bit of both. He manages to warble a reply that has Shishido smiling even wider and then he and Hiyoshi move on and past him.

They stop so Ohtori can get an extra bowl of rice. Hiyoshi waits and frowns.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"It's just… odd. You and Shishido," he says flatly. Hiyoshi doesn't pussyfoot. He just says it.

Ohtori blinks.

Hiyoshi's lips go thinner. "It's bad enough that he pressured you into helping him and now they also force you to play tennis with each other. It is true you are too nice and should never have let him press you, but surely this…" he shakes his head.

Forgetting all about the steaming bowl of rice and his hunger, Ohtori stops and stares. "It wasn't…  _quite_  like that," he manages.

A flat, disbelieving look.

Ohtori gropes for words to explain. "It's true that I wasn't sure about helping Shishido-san… but  _I_ did say yes."

"Yes, I am sure he asked all nice and polite," Hiyoshi mutters.

A smile steals across his lips. "Alright, maybe he didn't. But I still agreed. By the end of it we…"

What's the word for what they are -besides 'a doubles pair'?

"He's obnoxious," Hiyoshi says, somewhat mulish.

Something starts to dawn. Ohtori can't recall Hiyoshi ever having any particular hang-ups about Shishido-san before. Until now.

"Uhm," he goes, suddenly awkward. "Do you maybe want to sleep over after the Kantou Tournament? We can watch that series, maybe. You know. The one with the ghosts." Too bad that might mean he'll sleep poorly for a few nights. After the Tournament some sleepless nights aren't as disastrous. He just never expected Hiyoshi to feel  _threatened_. Then again… well, Ohtori can't readily think of anybody other than Hiyoshi he'd rely on if he'd have to.  _Before_. Now, he feels like he might just turn to someone else, too. And Hiyoshi seems to be all too well aware of this.

Hiyoshi's face does that weird thing where it doesn't do anything at all, but still manages to convey some sort of emotion. "… I'll ask my mother," he mumbles, decidedly  _not_  smiling.

They walk on and find a spot to eat. Ohtori pats himself on the back for having avoided a crisis.

Hiyoshi is a good friend.

And until a few nights ago, the only  _true_  friend. And he wants him to know he'll always respect that (but not by saying it, or anything like that… that would be…  _weird_ ).

Maybe he and Shishido aren't quite friends yet.

Still.

He thinks of Shishido's nod and calm:

_Hey, Choutarou._

Belatedly, he smiles back.

***

Mid-summer means that the sun still shows its face when Ohtori heads back to the courts after dinner. It's far from sunset, but the light is warmer and hazier nonetheless. Each individual knob of Shishido's spine is highlighted as he peels off his shirt.

Ohtori walks up to him and tries not to stare -but he does anyhow. It's punishing himself a little. Especially when Shishido turns towards him when he hears his footsteps on the clay. His chest is almost comically dotted with bruises -like oversized dalmatian spots. Ohtori knows that he should not feel guilty about it, but he kinda does nevertheless. Shishido asked him, commanded it at times, to serve at him. So he did.

The bruises are fading. Instead of livid purple-red, they are turning greenish brown with a yellowish ring around the edge.

He can't imagine how much pain he must've been in -or still is.

"Hi," Shishido says, giving him a lopsided grin as he reaches for a dry and clean shirt. Ohtori wonders how long he's already been at it. "By the way, how's your studies? Just say so if we gotta knuckle down for a moment."

"Ah! Hai! Thank you," Ohtori ducks his head, then gives a little smile of his own. "I've finished for today, though. Thank you."

An eyebrow twitches. "Eh… kay," he mumbles, eyes veering away towards the open courts. "Don't mention it."

There's an awkward silence.

Ohtori's smile wavers a little. He's not sure what to say, this is still a little new and wobbly and he badly wants to make a good impression besides having a fast serve (and wanting to give up his spot -though Shishido-san went kinda ballistic over that, so maybe that wasn't good to begin with).

Slinging his bag over a shoulder, Shishido-san peers up at him, as if he holds an answer to a specific question. Suddenly he nods and gestures towards the gate. "What do you say we hit the street courts? We're not gonna find out much if we stay here."

A shiver of anticipation curls in Ohtori's belly, a not entirely pleasant sensation.  _Yes_ , his heart says.  _No_ , his mind counters. What if they find out this won't work? The back of his neck is slick with sweat. A drop rolls towards his t-shirt collar.

"Alright," he manages.

It is hard to believe how nervous he is. His mind is mulling over all sorts of possible doom scenarios whilst Shishido lengthens his stride to match him.

"I hope there's some guys playing," Shishido remarks into the silence.

His footsteps falter and for a moment they are in disharmony. "Aa," he breathes.

Shishido pauses and studies him as Ohtori catches up. They walk on for about ten steps -a matched sequence of right, left, right, left- and then suddenly Shishido bumps their shoulders together. "Don't worry," he tells him. "It'll be fine."

After a moment, Ohtori nods -slowly.

_Trust_

he reminds himself.

_I do_

he answers.

***

"Rough or smooth?"

Ohtori's fingers clench convulsively around his racket handle.

"Rough," Shishido says, seemingly at ease and confident.

Ohtori wants to trust, he really, really, really does and, well, he  _does_ , honest. But did Shishido-san really have to challenge two highschoolers?

"Smooth," the burliest of the two grins. "Too bad kiddo."

When Shishido turns to him, Ohtori  _stares_. His eyes are bright. They burn where the dying sun touches them. He's used to Shishido-san's eyes being all aggressively intense. But this…

Ducking his head for an instant, Shishido murmurs. "We're gonna fucking crush them."

"Uh," Ohtori goes, trying hard to suppress the urge to wipe his sweating palms on his shorts. "Hai."

No formations just yet. Not for them. The other doubles pair lines up close together to center court, an up-and-back formation. The burly highschooler's partner is whippy and graceful, when he serves there's an almost gentle ' _Hah!_ '.

It's nothing too fancy. Shishido gets it, normal pace, and lets it curve back over the net.

Ten minutes into the game, with thirty-love for the other players, Ohtori feels sweat break out. Cold sweat. His stomach screws up tight.

Shishido is nothing at all like Taki-san.

Taki is very balanced and very… punctual. His shots are always hit  _with just the right timing_. That doesn't make them especially hard to counter, but it makes his form and poise very succinct. It makes it easy to know where he will go, when he will do so, how he'll return or when Ohtori needs to take the shot. No need to call for one another, they were well tuned. There's nothing loud or domineering about him. He was kind to Ohtori and besides a  _mind your serve_  Ohtori-kun, he never scolded him.

Shishido-san is… Ohtori has no words for it. He's seen Shishido play, so he kind of knows. But playing  _with_  him…

It's like he's been handed a music sheet of a very well-loved symphony of his, one he's not quite able to play without one yet -only the one he's looking at it in braille.

Feeling, intuition, nearly heart over mind.

In doubles, their whole personal style-dynamic alters. Shishido remains the retriever, but even as he stalks the baseline, he also dashes up front in a flash and then prowls there. There is no obvious division about who guards what side, unlike the one he had worked out with Taki-senpai. It's more chaotic. Shishido may be a counter-puncher, but he's aggressive. He attacks by defending. He's all jagged and harsh movements, complete with growly noises and expletives. He's a boiling presence  _everywhere_  and Ohtori can't take his eyes off him, because he needs to figure out what to do.

One thing is clear. Shishido is playing with a lingering shred of desperation from the recent ordeal. The very lines of his back are taut and edged -directed inward. It's not that he ignores Ohtori, because he does attempt to reach for that  _balance_  he told Ohtori about. Worst of all is that Shishido is a adept gamemaker, he signals, gestures. They're good signals. But it is like the beloved symphony where he  _nearly_  knows what ought to come next -nearly isn't good enough when you aren't sure.

The other team presses hard. Shishido's cockiness has pissed them off. A tricky, clever game is played out by them. It is not the first time these two are standing on a court together. The burly guy hits strong, nearly vicious shots. Ohtori can tell they take their toll on Shishido, he'd think it pride if he wasn't so absolutely sure that it  _isn't_  pride. Yet he mulishly keeps returning them when he can, while he ought to let even the easy ones pass by for Ohtori to take. Strength draws whipcord lines of muscle in Shishido's body, but it is a different kind than Ohtori's.

They take two games from them. Ohtori's service game was a win, barely, because he faulted a lot of his serves.

As they switch courts, Ohtori sees his senpai's hands shake a little. "Shishido-san…"

Shishido turns and smiles at him, "Don't worry, we'll get them."

Sighing, Ohtori frowns a little.  _It's not that!_ He thinks. It's okay if they can't mesh and balance perfectly from the start, but Shishido-san has to remember that while yes, he can return those shots, he doesn't need to. The two lost games don't matter, not yet, but Ohtori doesn't have any intention of losing. Not even to someone he doesn't know on the street courts. He's  _hyotei_. He's a regular. Every game matters. After the past few weeks, Shishido aches to win, to prove himself over and again.

 _Let me help you_. Ohtori watches him take his position at the baseline.  _Allowing me to help you means we can both win._

Shishido serves, it's nice and sharp, but that's it. It's returned easily.

Already at the net, Ohtori has the chance to press the advantage. Shishido dashes, but Ohtori calls he's got it -and he does. The look on Shishido's face says he's slightly flabbergasted, but not particularly cross. Just honestly confused.

It starts to dawn on Ohtori that it isn't because Shishido doesn't want to, or not even doesn't trust him -he did leave the shot to him at a moment's call. It's that he doesn't know how to  _depend_. Doesn't realize he  _can_. That it is alright to.

Every single return, every single attack, defense and move Shishido makes,  _all of them_ , are to make up for that one loss. Shishido-san is hard on himself.

The worst part is that Ohtori begins to see that Shishido  _is_  supporting him and very adeptly so, that's he good at doubles and a clever game maker. But. The other way around, it never seems to occur to Shishido that the supporting  _has_  to work both ways. Not even because he thinks Ohtori will mess up. It's almost like he's got a glaring -and particularly obtuse- blind spot in that regard.

It's ridiculous. As the game continues and Ohtori takes initiative, they start to gain. One moment they're pure iron on their court, it's insane just how tight and right they move, like they've done it a hundred times before. Suddenly it all frays at the edges, comically so, when the tide of support tilts and Shishido does his 'me against the world' act. That he lets Ohtori take the shots he calls for  _isn't enough._  They become two people on one court trying to hit fuzzy yellow-green balls, just barely managing not to barrel into one another.

They still win. The other team is pretty good, but they're just better. Separately even, and endlessly more so when they get it right.

Not to mention that the last game is service for Ohtori.

But 6-4 isn't that brilliant. Not against the teams they are up to this Friday. And this pair was as speck of dust compared to others.

Ohtori doesn't say anything yet. All things considered, it wasn't too bad.

But he thinks about the… the  _answer_. The very painfully obvious answer.

Two more evenings.

What question to ask to get Shishido to see it before then?

***

On Wednesday, tension runs high during afternoon practice.

Ohtori is oddly reluctant to play with Shishido for the whole club to see. Almost like showing a rough sketch of some concept he has in mind for a painting. He'd rather reveal it when the time is ready. When  _it_  is ready, perfect, like he knows it can be.

Obviously Atobe does not think so. It's not been officially announced that they are a doubles pair now, or even that they may be included in the tournament line-up. Time is running short.

And Atobe… Atobe is waiting.

 _We're doing our best!_  Ohtori wants to say. They are. They both arrived an hour earlier this morning, to practice with the ball machines. They won't go home later, either. They'll stay, eat the extra bento and force themselves through homework (most of which they've crammed in during break between classes) and then start again.

Today there's an overwhelming focus on doubles again. People's eyes linger on him, they must suspect something -the one half without an official partner but there is also Shishido and Hiyoshi and even Taki and what now? Ohtori fiddles with his racket at the sidelines, waiting for Atobe to make up his mind. While he's lecturing Oshitari and Mukahi, Shishido suddenly rushes up to him, grabs his arm and tows him towards the relative privacy near the exit of the courts.

Shishido crowds close, his hand is a secure around Ohtori's wrist. Unyielding yet not unkind. His eyes are keen as they find his. Ohtori blinks. "Listen," he whispers. "We gotta try for doubles one!"

Ohtori's jaw drops. "Excuse me?" he manages.

"Look. This, we can do this. I believe we can," he says, up and close in Ohtori's personal space. "We have to try."

It's hard not to close his eyes and sigh. It's insane how terribly… overzealous Shishido gets when he gets the whiff of the faintest possibility. And nothing but full-throttle will do.

Wait.

Is there?

A possibility.

Doubles One?

Ohtori thinks of his beloved symphony and the perfect painting.

Yes, well. But. The Tournament is in two days. They'd have to be pretty well satisfied it they managed to secure doubles two properly by then.

He looks at Shishido and is positive his senpai can read what he's thinking in his eyes. Yet. "We'd have to defeat Oshitari-san and Mukahi-san," he whispers. Is that agreeing?

"Yes," Shishido breathes. "Yes."

Yes.

They don't play them that practice. There's another fast rising doubles pair amongst the ranks of many that they have to take on first. Casually Atobe announces the practice matches, but as soon as he says 'the Shishido-Ohtori pair vs Ashida-Kase pair' everybody turns their eyes towards them. Even Jiroh cranks himself up long enough to take a good look. Hiyoshi appears pensive. When Ohtori meets his eyes, he nods. Barely. Atobe has already strutted along to order someone else around. Ohtori wonders what and how, exactly, Shishido said to him.

It's just practice. It's nothing official.

Ashida-san and Kase-san have seen them both play, but there is nothing they can do against Ohtori's serve, even knowing. And Shishido is still testing the full range of his hard-won reflexes, even startling Ohtori at times when he's just suddenly  _standing_  there, ready. Of course, together on a court, their tactics alter to accommodate one another.

Mostly.

Shishido is still doing part-time doubles.

 _Stop trying to prove yourself_ , Ohtori wants to say. Well, yell by then, honestly.

It's worse today, when they smack into disharmony  _it shows_. And the whole club is watching. Ohtori still doesn't know what else to do but forcibly call for the shots, and Shishido will let him have them, but it's so forced, so unnatural to how they play when they get it right. So they fumble and there's gaps and they become obstacles for one another to try and avoid tripping over.

Shishido will dash up to return, already making the faintest alignments necessary to hit his rising and Ohtori will say 'mine' or gesture and take it for himself, to show that -here, I  _am_  here, allow me to do my job- and Shishido will grind to an abrupt stop and the Kase will already have returned by the time he's centered himself and… They become sloppy and clumsy.

And they still win.

But it is not a performance worthy of doubles one.

And all the while, Oshitari stands and watches. Behind his glasses his eyes are dark and calm and unreadable.

It's not good.

Atobe doesn't say much. Not at any moment is he watching them. Yet Ohtori doesn't doubt for a moment that he saw everything, has plucked it apart and analyzed it with his Insight. Has seen that Shishido is in a way the strongest, yet weakest facet of their combination and that Ohtori is unable to fix it though he knows how.

How do you explain something so instinctive and obvious when the other can't even make such a simple leap of logic himself?

Trust me?

Shishido does. It's not that.

It's not trust. And it's not balance. The balance is there, they got it, but it gets lost when… something else that pries them apart. Is it because Shishido is so used to fixing his own problems? Yes, Ohtori was there to help, but Shishido  _used_  him as a solution to a problem he knew. And he's not harboring any hard feelings towards Shishido for that at all. But it is not helping them now. If he'd offered to help Shishido it might have been different, having had Shishido accept his aid verbally.

Maybe.

When practice ends, the two of them remain on the courts. They take a break for Shishido to towel himself off and to switch into a dry shirt and to eat. Shishido has sandwiches with him, all cheese, as opposed to Ohtori's hugely varied and fancy bento his mother prepared for him. They get eaten with as much relish as Ohtori eats his flower-shaped vegetables. Some of his rice balls have little faces and Shishido chuckles and rolls his eyes playfully when he sees them.

Just as suddenly does he get serious. He puts everything down and frowns.

"I know I'm pushing you… us," he mutters. "I know. But, can't you…" he makes indecipherable motions with both hands up and down and between them and around them. "We can," he concludes at last.

Ohtori sets his food aside also. "Will you try something with me, senpai?"

"Uh, sure."

Ohtori stands up. After a beat, Shishido does too.

"Turn around, back to me," Ohtori tells him. It's stupid. It's silly. And maybe not even entirely appropriate, but he's heard other teams at school do it.

A quirk of the mouth, but Shishido turns. His cap is still on his bag and the nearly bald spot shows. Compared to Ohtori, his body is terribly slender. He has to look down acutely when he focuses on the area around Shishido's arms and shoulders. "Let yourself fall backward," he says.

"Er, what?" Shishido goes, glancing over his shoulder.

"Don't worry," Ohtori presses. "Please."

And, just like that, Shishido goes more or less limp and lets himself keel backwards.

Ohtori catches him.

It's not even difficult. Shishido winds up being heavier than he suspected, but it's no trouble for him. Dangling with an almost pointed air in his arms, slack, Shishido mutters, "And what did we just achieve?"

Ohtori lets him get up. They face one another. Shishido is oddly flushed. Not answering the question, Ohtori bites his lip for a moment and then murmurs. "Can we do it the other way, too?"

Someone clears his throat, maybe Shishido, maybe him. The hair carding is definitely Shishido though. "What are-" he stops and looks Ohtori carefully up and down, taking in his greater height and weight. "Alright," he whispers.

Ohtori makes it a point not to announce it when he lets himself drop, nor to hesitate. Nor even to try and lessen the impact, accommodate his height.

Air whooshes past his ears for a heartbeat and then with a small noise, Shishido catches him. No stumble, no nothing. He's got him, securely, even when Ohtori lets himself hang, pure dead weight, somewhat longer than necessary to prove his initial point.

Shishido seems keen on putting more space between them after and he looks awkward. Considering the absurd request, Ohtori admits that he'd probably like to distance himself also if he'd been in Shishido's place.

"What was that all about?" he grumbles. It's not anger though. His brows are slanted into a frown, but his eyes catch the sun through his dark lashes as he looks up at Ohtori.

It takes a lot out of Ohtori to say what he does, because it isn't in his nature to speak out. He's a brooder. Even when provoked he bottles it, locks it inside and slaps a smile on it. He doesn't always get around to saying what he means, the easy, clear way. Least of all does he challenge people -or their methods-, without a good reason.

But this is a good reason.

Shishido won't get it.

"I don't think playing more tennis will help, Shishido-san," Ohtori says.

Here's when Shishido proves that they don't know one another very well yet. He expected anger, but there is none. The little his expression reveals hints at something darker and directed inward. Perception of failure? All he says is, "Why not?"

Ohtori doesn't answer.

"We're playing Oshitari and Gakuto tomorrow," Shishido tells him.

Now it's his turn to start.

"Atobe told me. Go check the roster if you don't believe me. We've got doubles two anyhow." That last sounds like a personal defeat, almost an apology, too, of not having been able to accomplish everything right now, right away.

After a moment of considering this, Ohtori nods. "I believe you." He does. Even more so, he thinks he's  _right_  even more so now.

"But you still think we gotta… go  _home_?" Shishido forces out, rattled.

He nods. "Shishido-san. Trust me."

Groaning, Shishido drags both hands over his face. "I can't believe this. I know you want that spot as bad as I do, but… you don't make  _sense_." More hair pulling and frowning. After an earth-shattering exhale, Shishido snarls, "Fine. I'll trust you."

Ohtori nods.

Good.

***

Oshitari and Mukahi stand at their side of the net.

Not able to tell whether this is simply pretense or not, Ohtori sees how they don't seem to take note of them at all. Maybe they simply aren't worried. Everything about them is relaxed, at ease, playful. Mukahi says something, it has a complaint and Oshitari's name in it, and Oshitari reaches out and does this… well, really  _lingering_  stroke through Mukahi's hair. Mukahi shuts up.

Ohtori blinks.

Shishido nearly bowls him over. "Okay," he says, then arches a brow at him. "You alright?"

"Ah, yes," Ohtori manages, yanking his eyes away from their opponents as though scalded. It's more comfortable to look at Shishido-san anyway, he seems… rested. The sharp look in his eyes is almost familiar now. And Shishido always makes it a point to look straight into  _your_  eyes. Ohtori finds he likes it. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Shishido answers, then lightly punches his arm. "Don't make me regret not practicing more yesterday."

Unable to help it, he flinches. He's afraid of this, more than the losing itself. His tactic has made it so that if he is wrong, he's also ensured they'll really struggle playing together for a while because he'll  _have_  shattered the trust.

"I'm kidding," Shishido says. "Relax."

 _I hope so_ , Ohtori prays.

Around them, the whole place is a whirlwind of activity. The Kantou Tournament is tomorrow. Hiyoshi and Jiroh are playing singles on the court closest to them. Jiroh is more or less awake.

"Kabaji!" Atobe snaps his fingers.

"Usu," Kabaji says.

"He'll referee," Atobe tells them. Oshitari and Mukahi have stopped fooling around. Next to Ohtori, Shishido is a warm presence. When they both inhale the hairs on their arms catch and tickle. He can sense the stillness in Shishido, the anticipation of what they both know will come. "The winners get doubles one." Pure energy seems to course up through his doubles partner and leap across the air into Ohtori. He shivers.

Across the net, their eyes meet. Right now they are not teammates. Even Shishido and Mukahi, close friends, narrow their eyes at each other. Oshitari smiles at Ohtori. He doesn't smile back.

"Tch," Shishido goes. "Doubles one will be ours."

"We'll see, Ryou," Oshitari positively purrs. "Smooth or rough?"

"Choutarou," he whispers.

"Rough," Ohtori answers for him.

"Really now," Oshitari says, sounding inordinately fascinated. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Just spin the goddamn racket you asshole," Shishido snaps.

"Stop!" Atobe interjects. "Kabaji will do it."

"Usu."

Kabaji spins the racket. "Rough."

"We'll serve," Shishido says and pointedly gives Ohtori a ball. "Kill them," he says.

Taking his position, Ohtori bounces the ball. He notes that Atobe has stopped acting and is watching at the sidelines. He always centers himself by this little vice: the bouncing, careful, rhythmical, until it builds. From the soles of his feet and up his back until it aches between his shoulder blades because he  _has_  to serve or fly apart at the seams.

Shishido doesn't signal for where. Doesn't matter.

_Ik… Kyu…_

_Nyu…_  He tosses it up, high, higher than most do and then, ready, watches it reach its peak -and return on the down arch.

 **KON.**  He hits.

It's in.

Perfect. Glorious.

Best of all? Shishido's tiny, infinitesimal tremor when it impacted, having followed the course of serve with his whole being. Even Oshitari just stands there, blank. There's nothing he  _can_  do.

"Fifteen-love," Kabaji calls.

"We  _know_ ," Mukahi snarls.

"Don't worry about this game, Gakuto," Oshitari says, smiling. "Just stand there and be pretty. It's our turn, soon."

Mukahi sighs and stops trying to look as though he even has a chance to receive. He pats his hair. "Stupid cheater serve. Smirk all you want, Ryou, we'll get you."

"See me tremble," Shishido fakes a yawn.

"Bastard!"

Ohtori serves before it turns into a verbal (or not so) cat fight between those two.

"Game, Shishido-Ohtori pair!"

Not a single fault. Ohtori allows a fist pump.

"Looking good," Shishido calls at him as they settle into more familiar positions on the court. As they gravitate closer, Shishido cuts with his eyes towards the other court. "They're gonna try and keep it short."

Ohtori nods. They always do, fast and furious, with Mukahi flipping and hopping about so fast you'll get nauseous. But Oshitari is the one you want to watch out for. He is. And he does not like the way in which his eyes linger on Shishido, thoughtfully, before he serves.

It is aimed smack-dab mid-court. Ohtori suspects to see what they'll do, so he steps sideways and lets Shishido have it. He flows up and returns it with a slice backhand, hitting low and deep the way he prefers.

Gakuto stays twirling about at the net, so Oshitari gets to return it. It comes back over, heavy and hard and Ohtori knows before it happens that Shishido will try for it.

He does, Ohtori lets him, not wanting to jangle the harmony, but knowing this isn't the way either. It gets returned, but the angle is all wrong -Oshitari doesn't particularly hit hard per se, but he did so now, with obvious intention. And Shishido still went for it. Gakuto is a hop-skip-backflipping blur, and suddenly the ball is in their court.

"Fifteen-love, Oshitari-Mukahi pair." Kabaji announces.

"Told ya!" Mukahi shrieks, before dissolving into laughter. Oshitari doesn't smile, he's watching.

Shishido seems unconcerned. Ohtori is getting a bad, baaaad feeling. He has the net, for now, letting Shishido do his retrieving near the baseline. A long rally follows, at odds with their opponents usual preferred style. Oshitari is taking a lot of the balls, too, and not even offensively.

They loose a point, another and then the game. Mukahi is a ball of bouncing glee, but Oshitari is a dark and watchful presence.

"Don't mind," Shishido says.

It's just one game, but Ohtori feels there's more going on.

Shishido's serve. He lands, surprisingly, a no-touch ace, a wide angled shot with a nasty spin towards a corner. Oshitari is more than ready for it next time, and the serve itself isn't as sweet as the first. A rally begins, lengthy again, and Ohtori finds himself only watching as Oshitari seems to-

Ohtori catches on way too late.

By the time he puts himself in place Oshitari already knows where the fatal flaw lies. Some sort of unspoken communication passes between him and Mukahi, after which the latter joins in. Ohtori had hoped, foolishly, that they'd have been able to build more reserve in their game, make enough headway that they could flaunter their way through and up to the last winning game. But to already have been caught at 1-1 is bad.

Of course, he should have known better when it is Oshitari-san.

Everything falls to pieces. All pressure gets directed to Shishido and not even so that it is obvious. It's all balls that are his forte -but it is  _all_  of them, no matter who hits, Mukahi or Oshitari, and just so that Shishido will be severely tempted to take them. So subtly that for Ohtori to call for them it seems pushing it. He still does, now and then, but it is an unnatural gesture to intercept them. They know how to tempt Shishido, his need to prove that, yes he knows he's being targeted, but he can handle this, his wounded pride and aching thirst to keep control.

Shishido doesn't even really get why he's being targeted.

And when Ohtori ventures to relieve the back court when Shishido gets drawn up front, they'll suddenly target the vacated side. It makes Shishido run to get it and Ohtori seem careless.

One advantage that remains theirs is that Shishido has insane stamina. The rallies are fast and harrowing, but he keeps up beautifully. Otherwise they'd have collapsed already. But as Shishido keeps being tempted by the easy shots that aren't easy at all, the sort he should not have to give up, Ohtori sees that once in a while Oshitari will hit heavy and violent, normally not such a big deal, but under the pressure it starts to tell.

Some of the high lobs Shishido does leave to him, but it's a disjoined effort. Ohtori tries to draw their shots, but as soon as Oshitari returns it is directed back towards Shishido.

The game draws out, and then they loose it.

Atobe is at the sidelines, ever watchful. Others have stopped to look also, muttering.

Whatever he tries, as soon as he has control, he loses it again. This despite the fact that Shishido signals for him, despite the fact that they manage to set up tactics, despite that sometimes they click and fight back. Oshitari is only interested in one thing, and he keeps doing that. Almost matter of factly. It's deadening, and yet dangerously frustrating for Ohtori. He becomes more reckless when they do have control, making it a force-play, but then there's a glint of glasses and it dissolves through their fingers.

They take 2 - 3 with Ohtori's second service game, a close call. He's so worked up he nets two, and faults another. The remaining scud serves aren't that brilliant either. Not as fast, and barely in.

At this rate, they will lose.

"They're targeting you," Ohtori pants as he mops at his forehead with his forearm.

"Really?" Shishido hisses. "Gee, I haven't noticed." He's cross, not per se at Ohtori, but at himself, at their stumbling.

"You have to let me take them!" Ohtori insists. "All of them!"

"What? And just  _stand_  there?" Shishido counters. "It's not singles!"

" _Exactly_!" Ohtori nearly yells.

A disbelieving shake of the head. "We should've worked on tactics yesterday evening," he mumbles. He keeps clenching his right hand, thoughtfully. There's a light shake in his fingers.

"The only tactic we need is-"

"Are you two done squabbling?" Mukahi shouts. "A panic attack is not going to save you now. Let's just get this over with." He smirks, twirls his racket.

One last simmering look and Shishido stalks off.

 _Well done, Oshitari-san_ , Ohtori thinks, hanging his head.

Oshitari gives them a nasty twist serve and they get sucked into the game again. They've stopped testing with rallies. Now, confident of their game and mindful of Gakuto's stamina, they start to attack.

They drop points faster than they can keep up. Oshitari is giving Shishido a taste of his own medicine, hitting low and deep to stop him in his tracks. Ohtori stands as close as he can without being in the way, knowing that unless he can get through Shishido's thick skull, they're goners. Possibly the only way to do this is to knock him unconscious.

It's no use to scream at Shishido, he'll just scream back, too frustrated to listen, too set on showing that he can do this. Alone with two on a court. Ohtori stands at the baseline, nearly behind Shishido and watches it happen, helpless.

Then, suddenly, Mukahi fumbles a shot. Chance ball. It arcs right towards Shishido, but odd and steep and irregular, even Ohtori has no idea how it is coming in, especially not with the sun being right there, lucky for Mukahi really and -but Shishido is so intent and getting it, even blind, that he backs up, trips, and falls.

It doesn't even register he's moved until he's already got his hands under Shishido's arms and the ball  _twocks_  into the court next to his left foot.

"Thirty-love," Kabaji says.

"You alright?" Mukahi calls, standing at the net, suddenly deprived of little grins and anxious.

Ohtori hoists him to his feet and steps away.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles. "Choutarou has my…" he trails off. Slowly, carefully, their eyes meet. "He has my back," Shishido finishes.

It's barely a whisper, but it  _carries_.

Oshitari's eyes widen. Atobe's lips move. Jiroh and Hiyoshi have stopped playing and are watching.

"-I…" he starts.

Ohtori hums. "Bloody massacre?" he offers.

There's a wonderful, blooming grin. He holds up his arm. "Fuck yeah," Shishido growls, as they bump. "Let's slaughter them."

They turn towards their opponents again.

"You wearing water-proof panties, Gakuto?" Shishido asks casually as he moves into position.

"You're losing," Mukahi returns. "Big time. It'll be-"

"Ga-ku-to," Oshitari says, quellingly.

"What?" the redhead snaps. " _Geez_."

Ohtori's blood starts to tingle. And when Shishido, almost pointedly steps aside to let the easy, slow, gentle ball -one last ruse of Oshitari's- in Ohtori's care, it starts to sing.

They play.

Ohtori… well, it's nearly frightening. Everything slots into place, a resounding, cosmic crack as they align, balance, mesh,  _play_ , perfectly. Suddenly Shishido is not only an aggressive, domineering presence, he's an anchor, even when he steps aside -more so than he needs to- and Ohtori  _understands_.

He doesn't even need the music sheet for this symphony anymore, finding out he never needed it, almost with an aplomb 'I can't believe how this was even difficult before'. The perfect painting is  _already_  there.

They start reeling in games. As Oshitari abandons all attempts of pressure on either of them and pulls out his own troublesome play, Shishido moves back in it. For the first time, his reflexes start to show, sharper and abrupt, even after how long they've played, whilst Mukahi starts to slow down, jumping less and twirling not at all.

"Don't be shy, Choutarou," Shishido grunts between harsh breaths. "Hit a little harder."

It's difficult not to start laughing then, but he smiles and complies. Mukahi's racket flies out of his hands -he's finished.

That does not mean Oshitari makes it easy. Even just with him fighting, the last two games are hard.

Game, Shishido-Ohtori.

Oshitari is, like Ohtori, tall and lean. The long reach and his innate grasp of the game make him formidable. He aims for Ohtori, with his less rounded-style but formidable serve.

Shishido covers for him, first at the baseline, taking care of his misses. Then by his side, supporting and defending and then slipping before him, in danger of being hit, but perfectly confident in Ohtori's ability to read him, trusting him wordlessly-

they both swing, almost in perfect unison, but Shishido lets the shot pass for him. In a split second Ohtori takes it, slugs it over the net but Oshitari is there, ready, returning and Gakuto, who is standing right at the net looks at Ohtori when Shishido follows it up.

Landing it right between his feet.

There's a shocked pause. Gakuto stares at the ground as Oshitari whips his head around. He and Shishido breathe.

"Game, Shishido-Ohtori pair six to three," Kabaji says.

Noise bursts out. Before he can think of turning and grinning, Shishido has grabbed him, laughing and it's really really really gross, their fronts a mash of copious sweat and cotton. But Ohtori laughs, too, and he never ever ever though winning could feel this  _good_.

They're doubles one.

***

Atobe leans against a locker as they towel off after their shower.

Ohtori and Shishido keep finding each others' faces to grin  _again_ , silly and disbelieving. Mukahi stomps about complaining loudly, nagging like a musquito, so Oshitari stops him by slapping his behind -which stops everybody doing everything to stare. Mukahi's butt is… naked and the slap  _echoes_.

"I didn't see that," Shishido concludes, and turns away making a face.

Oshitari saunters off, poker-faced, to comb his hair. Mukahi stands there, hand on his own butt, face flooding with hectic color.

After demonstratively rolling his eyes, Atobe looks at the both of them. "Figured it out, did you?"

"Uh-" Ohtori goes, wondering what it is if it wasn't trust that they figured out.

Shishido nods, wryly. "Yeah," he glances up at Ohtori. "Dependence."

***

They're the last to walk home. Atobe is a graceful figure quite some ways ahead of them, having allowed an approving smirk when Shishido had returned the spare key proclaiming they didn't need it anymore.

Tomorrow, they will play doubles one.

Ohtori can't believe it and he wants to tell Shishido: you were right, right all along, sorry I was so worried about… about  _everything_.

Before he can even fumble to try and say so, Shishido exhales low and shaky. "Hey, ah-"

Ohtori glances at him. Shishido's hair is dark, gleaming brown as it dries in the warm evening air, still striking, shorn short or not. It catches glints of the red haze of the sunset like fire.

"Yes?" he prompts.

"You were right," Shishido says. "It was… it was me."

How do you tell someone that, yes, you nearly ruined it for the both of us, but you were amazing -if a little infuriating- during it and even more so after, when you got it right, and I would never have known I could play like that without you. Thank you.

"That's alright," is all he says, smiling a secret smile.

Shishido bumps him, smiling his own lop-sided smile. "You got my back."

They share a glance.

"Hai," Ohtori says.

***

Mukahi and Oshitari are slumped forward with towels over their heads. A shocking, upsetting loss. Always discouraging to loose the very first match. Hyotei members mutter, worried. Nobody tells them to go. Atobe stands, arms crossed, and just watches.

He's never felt more confident.

 

"Ohtori. Let's go."

"Hai."

  
  
  
  


_-fin-_


End file.
